Springfield daily republic. [volume] (Springfield, O. [Ohio]) 1887-1888, 1887-12-02

closer inspection found ihat II nso
gone clear through him between the
heart and liver, struck against q RIB on
the other side. md nature had covered II
over, and there IL had remained for years
What hunter ''cussed" and blamed b.s
bad luck as that old buck bounded away.
And old Mr.. Fveprong might have had
another story to tell his grandchildren
about one Of my balls, but the breech
loader, with It's little arsenal, was too
many for him.
Three more days Of this glorious sport
headache all gone, appetite-why we
could have digested a medium sized grid
iron. Our camp looked like a regular
packing estabiiShment-hams and shou}'
dcrs and back straps" smoked just
enough 10 keep nice and sweet, presents
for our city friends. That last day-how
well remember it, We had been far
down the valley for a last grand hunt
Toward evening, the fog from the plains
below came drifting toward us. We
turned our faces caEipward. As il settled
round us, the air grew almost as dark as
night. In crossing the canyons, somehow
We got separated from each other.
Heavily laden with a saddle of yenison
apiece, We labored up the rocky steps, some
times crawling on our hands and knees
under the dense underbrush. and around
awful chasms. through which the waters
roaTed and thundered. The wet fog
struck us in the faces. almost binding us.
halloed for my friend-but Lo answer,
the wind was against me and my voice
died away in the echo Of the moaning
pines Still | labored on, up and up. Ii
grew lighter; at last. clambering the last
rocky height, l suddenly came into the
glorious twilight. l had gotten above the
fog.
| turned my eyes toward the west.
Never shall l forget that sight. Like
great pillows Of snowy foam, pndulating.
rising and falling. transformed at times
into silver and gold sapphire by the rays
Of the setting sun, rolling on and on,
cam. that ocean of fog. with drops Of
mist glltiering on its bosom, while away
beyond. 200 miles distant, lay the grand
acific, its waves glinting like pearls, a
nighty sea of glass. sat long and gazed
like one entranced upon this beatific
rision-l never expect to see another such
this side the shore Of the sea of life. Sud
denly was awakened from my reverie by
the well known voice Of my friend
Hello thercT'-not 100 yards away.
Parted from each other in the mists and
darkness of the valley below, we met at
asst in the bright sunlight of the noun
.ain top, far above the fog
That evening ominous clouds gathered,
and the next morning flakes warned us
that IL wGs time To turn our faces toward
the warmer regions below-none too soon,
as We reached lower latitudes we could see
the hills surrounding our old stamping
ground white with snow. IL we had
stayed another day We should probably
have been prisoners i'll that little valley
for months.
Soon after this sailed for a trip to the
Hawaiian Islands. When | returned, on
opening my budget of letters l came To
one black edged. II was from S, my
old hunter friend. My breath caught in
my throat as l read-dead, Struck down
in the prime of his manhood And then
l thought Of our last evening together
the dark valley bclow-the parting-the
f0g-the meeting in the sunshine above.
w. j. Smith in Overland Monthly.